


sing me sweetly to my doom

by cshmr



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, i don't know how to tag, infected Charlotte, no happiness for ted, this started as a shitty discord oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29467236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cshmr/pseuds/cshmr
Summary: charlotte was infected in the alleyway. no one had wanted to leave her behind, of course, so she's taken to the professor's, tied to a chair. ted's left to watch her while the others drink. and everything's fine.until it isn't.~~~title from sirens by bear ghost
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted Spankoffski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	sing me sweetly to my doom

**Author's Note:**

> yeah you can really tell that this wasn't originally written for ao3. also no capitol letters, we die like fools

if it had been anyone else bleeding blue in the alleyway, ted would've insisted on leaving them behind.

as it is, he was the one who's fighting hardest to get the others to bring charlotte with them.

and now, here they are. she's tied to a chair in the professor's entrance hall, unmoving, her sweater stained a deep navy. the others are downstairs, barely any noise audible from them at all, a faint clatter now and again. and ted, as the most disposable, has been left to guard her. pacing slowly up and down the tiled floor, each footstep being the only noise around with which to ground himself, remind himself that all of this is really happening.

he watches her for a little. fiddles with the keys. doesn't say anything. the two stare at each other for... an indeterminable amount of time. but too long, definitely far too long to look into her piercing blue eyes. they're unnatural, almost ghostly, not the pleasant olive-green they usually are. he would know what her eyes look like, of course, because he's spent many a moment looking into them. she never normally looks back.

she doesn't sing right away. only as he starts to get bored, almost ready to leave her and go to the others. because seeing her there, dead but not quite, in pain... well, it seems worse than the alternative.

and it's _definitely_ worse now, because she's singing. a love song, it seems, gentle and soft, her eyes turned away from him. because she's not singing it to him, is she? her husband's somewhere on the other side of town, knocked out in a shady alley. and that's who she's singing to, her words a gentle croon. somehow softer yet more torn apart than he's ever heard her, the pleasant melody overshadowed by the pain in her voice. the loneliness, the torture, the heartbreak. and yet the song still isn't for him.

the real charlotte knows how he feels, of course. willful blindness can only take her so far. she knows he broke his own rules, she knows he grew too attached. the real charlotte doesn't really care. the real charlotte has a husband, has a home to go to. the real charlotte has green eyes.

but that's when he really notices that something's wrong. because, as the chorus starts to swell, the blue-eyed woman in front of him doesn't start calling her husband's name.

no, she's calling ted's own.

at first, he denies it to himself. this isn't happening, this _can't_ be happening. she has no reason to sing to him, no reason to love him. she told him that, once. it was... a bad fight, the one that stands out the most. he asked her to leave sam, begged, dropping any remaining shred of decency he pretends to have.

she simply reminded him of the rules. told him that he has no right to get attached, to demand anything of her. and then she left, even in her rage not daring slam the door behind her.

so sure, there's no reason for her to be singing to him. but she is, undeniably, glancing towards him now. eyes boring into his, as though she could see inside of him.

and it's not charlotte, he reminds himself.

but wouldn't it be nice if it was? wouldn't it be nice if there was some part of her, still left, calling out to him? for help, for mercy, for freedom?

for his love?

because that's what she's singing about now. tears falling freely, a pale sapphire that he can convince himself is just a reflection from the overhead lights. her voice is a lot louder, too. more desperate. begging him to stay, to let her free, to show her what love actually is.

he should leave now. he should leave now, and get help. the professor must have some way to kill these... things.

he doesn't leave. he does the opposite, cautiously getting closer. she shuffles nearer, still cuffed to the chair. struggling against her restraints. he has to do something. what that something is, he doesn't know.

she's gone, that much is for sure. but maybe he can pretend she isn't. maybe he can pretend her words are true.

it's only when he's a pace or two away that he starts to break, to truly break. tears welling but not spilling over. never spilling over. because that's the woman that he loves, right there. suffering. scared. trapped.

gone.

his breath catches in his throat for a moment as he tries to take air in, to say something. and when he eventually does, his voice shakes. hers stops. and as horrifying as the sound was, he's still not sure it's a relief to hear her quiet.

"char? baby? you- you're gonna be okay, promise. i can help you, but just... i dunno, just wait here until i get the others, alright?"

"no!" she yells, suddenly, hoarsely. a beat, almost as perfectly paused as if she had a metronome in one ear. her composure back as if it never slipped, a sing-song tone to her voice. "you can't. it can only be you, teddy. it's only you."

she keeps repeating those lines. over and over, an almost hypnotic lullaby. he snaps out of it, though. whether that's after a few seconds, or a few minutes, he couldn't say. but he does with a shake of his head, the singing cutting off as soon as it had started.

"you- you're not her. i know you're not. anyone else, i wouldn't give a fuck, but just... just let me have her back. please."

there's an unmistakable tremble to his voice, one he wouldn't dare admit to. she doesn't say anything for a moment, just tilts her head curiously, still staring at him.

"but you already have me, teddy."

"no. no, i don't, and you- you know that!"

her brow furrows. it always does so when she's nervous, or scared, or confused, a movement so natural to her that he doubts she ever notices it. so- so her that he'd notice it anywhere.

"but you do. i love you."

it's not her, he knows that. she's not controlling her body anymore. the real charlotte wouldn't say that. the real charlotte couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't love him.

he steps closer nonetheless. a few beats of quiet, the only noise a faint sound from downstairs. and it's only then that he can bring himself to look back at her. 

and, really, blue eyes quite suit her.

she's not singing, now. she doesn't need to. he's already hers.

"let me free, teddy. i just- just wanna feel your arms around me. it's so cold here, baby."

he shouldn't. he knows it's not her.

charlotte. does. not. love. him.

but he doesn't pause to think, quickly moving to the back, where her wrists are chained to the chair. undoing the lock as fast as his hands can move. because maybe there's some sort of chance. maybe he can bring her back, the real her, maybe she was speaking the truth after all. because, really, he wants nothing more than that.

letting the keys fall to the floor, he throws his arms around her as soon as she's standing. her body feels frail, shaking in his grip. icey-cold, like death. he doesn't care.

"fuck, char, i'm so sorry, I should've-"

"kiss me?"

a beat. he pulls away ever-so-slightly, enough to look at her face. a small grin on it, nothing like the pain she had been singing of just moments ago.

but he ignores that fact. because she finally wants him for him, not just as another body to fill a lonely night. she wants _him_ , she asked _him_ , she loves...

well, if her song is to be believed, she loves him.

and as he nods, brings his lips to hers, it's enough for him.

\---

when the pair bursts through the basement doors, the others wonder what happened to ted. how he had gotten himself infected too.

maybe he hadn't locked her up securely enough. maybe another one of the infected had breached the walls. maybe she had somehow overpowered him.

none of them, for a second, considers love.

they wonder if his death had been painful. there's no visible wound, sure, but that doesn't mean there isn't one.

his death had indeed been painful. but not physical pain, not exactly. that wouldn't have been as bad. not as bad as her keeping him close, feeling... something start to seep through him, somehow. the feeling of falling away from his own body, ripped mercilessly, into the cold. 

and then he was gone.

but, when all's said and done, the others feel for her. they comfort each other, stick closer together.

when all's said and done, they don't feel for him. none of them had really cared much in life, and they can't find any reason to do so in death.

because, really, who _does_ care about him? who _does_ love him?

not charlotte, that's for sure.

but at least, for a moment, he could convince himself that she did.

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to venus! not for any particular reason, i just love them


End file.
